He didn't like the casserole,
and he didn't like my cake.
He said my biscuits were too hard,
not like his mother used to make.
I didn't perk the coffee right,
he didn't like the stew.
I didn't mend his socks
the way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer,
I was looking for a clue.
Then I turned around and smacked him
like his mother used to do.